


Coffee

by VacuumTan



Series: Ylisse Corp. [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Coffee Drinking, Corporate AU, Dorks in Love, F/M, Second person POV, Slow Build, a few untagged characters, and like one or two relationships on the side, for a one-shot that is, gdi it's cordelia, unrequited feelings, what do you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 20:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3868879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VacuumTan/pseuds/VacuumTan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is all your fault.”</p><p>“Is it, now?”</p><p>“Just leave me alone.”<br/>--</p><p>Alternatively: in which Cordelia definitely does NOT enjoy the coffee Gaius buys her and honestly doesn't even as much as THINK of falling for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee

For the first four weeks of your employment at Ylisse Corp., you tried to ignore him.

But you’ve never really been good at paying unpleasant things no mind for long (and you blame but your inner perfectionist for that), so at the beginning of your fifth week, just as he passes by your desk with his usual, entirely ridiculous wink in your direction, you finally snap.

“Could you please keep that disgusting behaviour of yours to yourself while at work?”, you ask him, harshly, and his eyebrows shoot up to hide behind the curtain of his shaggy red bangs. (Idly, you think how you’ve already won by stunning him like that.)

But, to your dismay, he instead takes that as an invitation to turn towards you and lean against your desk. Your irritation with him increases by tenfold. “Can’t I show my appreciation for a pretty girl?”, he teases you, smirking, and, oh, you think, he truly thinks of himself as smooth.

You simply sigh, letting your eyes roam his entirely dissheveled appearance, before shaking your head in dismissal. “It’s inappropriate in a professional environment”, you say as factually as possible and he hums in thought, oblivious to the hidden implication that he himself didn’t belong into a workplace like this.

“How about we take it all somewhere else, then, and get some coffee? Are you free after work today?”, he asks and you can’t help but notice how he doesn’t waste any time at all. However, that straight-forwardness doesn’t come off as charming as he thinks he is, in your opinion.

It should be obvious that you are going to decline and, honestly, is there really any reason to be sensible with him? You decide that, no, there is not, so, locking eyes with him, you state, “I would be free, but unfortunately, I’d rather drink down two buckets of sulfic acid than have coffee with you.”

Your words are very blunt and rude and his expression is nothing short of dumbstruck, but somehow, this victory doesn’t taste as sweet as you’d like it to. Maybe it’s that unshakeable glint of determination in his eyes that hasn’t yet faded. Whatever it is, it leaves you with a bitter aftertaste in your mouth as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, the gears in his head obviously working overtime to somehow save the situation.

Frankly, you wouldn’t mind if it just died.

But then, his voice returns and with it his smirk, and you contemplate whether it warrants a roll of your eyes. “Well, if you’re so opposed to the idea of going somewhere with me-“

“Negatively disgusted by it”, you correct him, wishing how he would just let it go already. (Your intuition tells you he wouldn’t do that, not in a million years.)

“Fine, if you’re so negatively disgusted by that idea, then how about I just get you the coffee every day and you can have your acid whenever?”, he asks you, crossing his arms over his puffed-out chest because, really, isn’t he proud that he came up with something that sounded like a compromise to him.

However, you don’t trust his proposal (or him, for that matter). If anything, you’re too sick and tired of this conversation by now- retorting and therefore fueling the fire wouldn’t do you any good, either way. And so, rubbing your temples, you finally sigh, “Do whatever the hell you want.”

You don’t spare him another glance and yet, from your peripheral vision, you see him smirk at you because, damn, you seriously served him that victory on a silver platter, didn’t you? “Alright, it’s settled”, he says but makes no move to go away.

After about half a minute of returning to and glaring at the project on your screen that has to be done by noon, you turn around in your chair to face him and, just below a yell, angrily force out a, “Goodbye, Gaius.”

Surprisingly, he takes the hint and leaves without complaint. You find yourself glaring after him, still, and yet, you can’t help but notice the subtle sway in his stride that hadn’t been there before. (Neither can you ignore how his crumpled, well-worn suit clings to his lean frame in a way that makes your mouth go dry.)

Never before have you found yourself hating a single man this much.

* * *

The next day, just as promised, there is a paper-cup from some sort of hipster coffee shop waiting for you on your desk. (And thinking about it, that kind of store really suits the poor tastes Gaius had shown thus far. … Is what you would like to say, but then again, he was flirting with you and you’ve never been one to discredit yourself.)

Stuck to it is a small post-it note, a neon-pink one at that, that reads, in surprisingly clean and orderly handwriting, “Something bitter to go with your mood from yesterday.” After that, there is a little winking face and you find yourself ripping it off the cup and crumpling it in your hand without a second thought.

You then get up, coffee in hand (and by then you notice how it somehow is still hot), and walk all the way through the office to Gaius’ desk. He quickly notices your presence and grins up at you from his seat, the first flirtatious words on his lips already, just past eight in the morning. “No need to thank me personally for the coffee, princess”, he says and you give him an unimpressed look.

“Like I would thank you”, you mutter and meet his eyes with an angry glare. He seems amused by your actions, keeping his gaze on you, even as you move the cup over the trash can (to your dismay, it is the fullest trash can you have ever seen around here), demonstratively holding it up and into the air before letting go of it, always keeping your eyes on Gaius’.

In the next two seconds you regret exactly four things.

First- you shouldn’t have thrown a full cup into a bin that was basically overflowing with trash already.

Second- you should have let the beverage cool down enough for it to not burn on your skin anymore.

Third- you shouldn’t have worn your favourite pair of pumps that day.

Fourth, and foremost- you definitely shouldn’t have looked into Gaius’ eyes, even if it should have emphasised your superiority over him.

As those two seconds of realisation pass, however, the situation comes crashing down on you. You just made a complete fool out of yourself by dropping a cup of way too hot coffee onto a slope of trash from which it rolled down and the lid decided to come off just when it hit your ankle- all while trying to prove how you were way out of some sewer rat’s league.

Quickly, you kick off your coffee-filled shoes and curse every deity in existence for your poor luck. Your feet hurt from the burn and your tights are soaked, but so is the carpet and you can’t refrain from looking at Gaius, already expecting a shit-eating grin on that idiot’s face.

But that’s not what happens. Instead, you find him moving towards you hurriedly, a few tissues in his hands, and before you know it, he’s kneeling in front of you, passing you three of the tissues to clean yourself and your shoes with. You stand there, next to him, looking down at his hunched back as he rubs the moisture out of the grey carpet.

“Aren’t you gonna save your shoes, princess?”, he asks you, teasingly, as he knocks his elbow against your calf by accident, and only then do you realise that, oh, yes, your favourite shoes have been completely soaked. Right.

So you flop down in his office chair, trying to save what there still is to save. You’re glad that your shoes are of such high quality, because there hardly seems to be any damage to them. Your feet, however, hurt terribly, but you aren’t going to give in- oh no, if it was to save face in front of that asshole, you would gladly walk off first degree burns.

You get up while he is still cleaning the floor, briskly walking past him on your dried-off shoes. He meets your eyes as you turn to look at him once more, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “This is all your fault”, you find yourself saying with a glare down at him, balancing awkwardly on your aching feet.

“Is it, now?”, he asks you and smirks, the implications of how it wasn’t his fault at all obvious to you.

“Just leave me alone”, you tell him, walking off as quickly as you can.

(The blush on your face, you’ll deny eternally.)

* * *

For the rest of the week, you just leave the cups of coffee waiting for you on your desk to get cold, throwing them away during lunch break after tearing off the post-its. (Respectively, they said, “If you want me to kiss your feet that badly, just say the word.”, “Come on, at least throw them away here! PS: How are your pumps?”, and, “The carpet is clean again, but now the only remainder of you being here is gone.” Needless to say, they were all so vulgar and embarrassing that you might as well have gone and accused him of sexual harrassment.)

Enter the next week, the coffee on your desk is beckoning you to drink it with gentle, drifting steam escaping from the hole in the lid. It’s the first time you even consider having a sip and you blame it on the sudden cold weather outside. As you sit down, the text on the post-it is unusually short-looking- “My personal favourite”, it says.

You smell it discreetly, not entirely ruling out the possibility of Gaius trying to drug you, but when you only find a heavenly warm, vanilla-scented mist melting away the frost’s lingering bite on your lips, you cannot help but take a cautious little sip.

It burns your tongue a bit, and you once again wonder how coffee can stay hot for so long, but when you truly take your time to appreciate the taste, you find that, on one hand, it’s way too sweet while on the other, it is a perfect blend of sugar, vanilla and delicious espresso, together with its warmth reminding you of a cold winter evening, best spent coddling in front of the fireplace with the one you love. (Although, in your case, the one you love holding you close is just a fleeting fantasy.)

Before you know it, the cup in your hands has become empty and the fading warmth in your hands suddenly seems a thousand degrees colder. (You deliberately disregard the fact that the heat settling in your stomach feels so, so nice.)

This isn’t what you want. You don’t want some shaggy, unkempt idiot to think that he has a chance with you. (And even if your heart didn’t already belong to someone else, you still wouldn’t let someone like _that_ get to you.)

Angrily, you crumple the note in your hand and throw it into the trash can next to your feet, followed by the empty cup.

For an hour, you still taste sugar and vanilla on your lips.

* * *

The following day, you find yourself cursing Gaius under your breath. A few of your colleagues who happen to pass by send you worried glances, but you shake it off with an awkward laugh each time and wish them a good morning.

But really, you are nothing short of furious. “So glad you liked it. Does that mean we share the same tastes?”, the post-it says and you glare at the cup standing there, the same smell of vanilla as yesterday drifting over your desk. And, remembering the beverage’s warmth, it suddenly is ridiculously hard to let the coffee become cold.

Like hell do you share tastes with that guy.

As lunch time approaches and it’s almost time to throw away today’s paper cup, you catch a glimpse of blue hair in the back of the office, followed by a few words, spoken in a smooth voice you would recognise anywhere.

A few minutes later, you notice a familiar figure standing just next to your desk. You look up at him and smile, your previous irritation dissolving into nothing in his- _Chrom’s_ \- presence. (Whenever he is involved, you like to believe that you turn back into a blushing school girl with a crush.)

“So, Cordelia. How have your first few weeks here at Ylisse been?”, he asks you, leveling you with his eternally kind gaze and you feel yourself melting as your heart jumps in your chest.

“Great”, you reply, softly. “Everyone does their work properly and is really nice. It’s to be expected, with someone like you at the top.” Your compliments are shameless and make the blood rush to your cheeks. Then again, if you aren’t bold, what else are you supposed to be?

“I… see”, Chrom says and doesn’t dare meet your eyes. “Thanks.” And the way he mutters that word while looking off to the side rubs you the entirely wrong way.

His eyes wander to your desk, then, and, as if to prolong the conversation while shaking off all the previous awkwardness, he picks up the long-since forgotten cup sitting on it, seemingly irritated by its untouched, cold contents. “Is there a reason why you didn’t drink this?”, he asks you and your stomach drops.

“It’s nothing”, you tell him, quickly, and try to stay calm. “It’s just a guy who can’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Don’t worry.” (Yes, don’t worry, you think. You’re the only one for me, Chrom.)

Chrom shrugs slightly and sets the cup back down. “Alright, then”, he says and you thank god that he isn’t interested in your affairs. (Part of you is sad about that, though.) “I’m glad you’re doing fine. Keep up the good work”, he tells you and then, after saying goodbye, your ways part again.

You’re well aware that Chrom doesn’t see you that way, but you somehow can’t let him go just yet.

With a frown, you drink the cold vanilla coffee in one go and slam the empty cup on the table.

You’ve never had something more disgusting.

* * *

About a week and several cold cups of coffee later, you find yourself facing a problem you had (fortunately) managed to avoid until then- after entering the lobby and greeting Olivia at the front-desk as usual, you catch a glimpse of ginger hair and the familiar smell of way too sweet beverages and that makes you stop right in your tracks.

But before you even have the time to react and run away like an idiot, he whips his head around and locks eyes with you. For a few seconds, you wonder if time froze up because letting something like this happen broke the fabric of time and space. Then, his lips crack into a grin and you realise that apparently, no, the universe had remained intact and idiots would forever remain idiots.

“Morning, Cordelia”, he says, breaking the silence, and his mouth settles into a relaxed line. (Absentmindedly, you note how attractive that expression looks on him before you mentally slap your face a good thousand times for thinking that.)

“Good morning”, you reply curtly before hurriedly stilting in the direction of the elevator, your legs feeling awkward and stiff below you, trembling from irritation.

Yet, apparently, he finds your embarrassing display of fake nonchanlance endearning, if anything, for he chuckles under his breath before casually falling into step besides you. “Did I do anything wrong?”, he has the audacity to ask ( _calmly_!) as the two of you wait for the elevator.

It’s then that you go from boiling to seething.

You turn towards him, ready to finally put him in his place, when, suddenly, you have an epiphany of sorts. That being, that he had, actually, really never _done_ anything wrong. He might have had a character as unpleasant as they came, but his actions themselves could only be called words along the lines of ‘nice’ (although his motives, you knew, were anything but that).

“… No”, you mutter sourly, at last, frowning at your own resignation. When you look at his face a few seconds later, you don’t expect to be met with an expression quite as surprised, but it’s there. “Don’t give me that look. Getting me coffee every day without fail is a really sweet thing to do. Being mad about that would be childish.”

It might be your professionalism slipping in, but you can’t help the soft smile that graces your lips at the end of that sentence. Gaius turns to stare ahead awkwardly and takes a sip from one of the two styrofoam cups he is holding, entirely and endearningly self-conscious.

“You don’t drink them more than half the time, though, do you?”, he asks you rhethorically after a beat, a smirk back in place, but he holds out the other cup for you to take, nevertheless. You sigh and take it as the elevator finally arrives, stepping into it and pressing the button for the eleventh floor. Gaius, too, gets in and stands straight with both hands wrapped around his cup, maybe half a metre to your left.

When the eighth floor comes around, you take a little sip of your coffee, finding it to be delightfully sweet with the odd mix of undertones that was caramel and Irish Cream. You release a content sigh at the taste and glance at your company from the corner of your eye, only to see him doing just the same.

“Thank you. It’s delicious”, you tell him, meeting his gaze and smiling.

Surprisingly, you realise that you mean it.

* * *

The week passes without incident and you come to understand that not wasting a few good cups of coffee out of stubbornness doesn’t hurt you or your pride. By Friday, you’re looking forward to the warm drinks the next week will bring and your high spirits seem contagious, for everyone around you seems fairly chipper these days.

At long last, you are back to being virtually flawless.

On Saturday, you decide to meet up with Sumia. The two of you hadn’t seen much of each other lately, with her changing departments out of the blue, but best friends needed to catch up every once in a while, even if times were busy. So, with your hair, makeup and outfit done as impeccably as always, you arrive at your usual café fifteen minutes earlier than what you had agreed upon and order an espresso, sweetened to the max.

As you sit there and wait for your friend to arrive, you idly take tiny sips of coffee, all the while finding minor nuances within its taste that aren’t quite pleasant on your tongue. You fully blame Gaius’ spoiling of your tastebuds for that, but at the same time, what wouldn’t you give for that strange but delicious strawberry-cheesecake latte from Thursday.

Only ten minutes too late, Sumia stumbles in, seemingly having had trouble with the doors’ push-and-pull mechanic. Blushing a little out of embarrassment over her clumsiness, she straightens her posture a little and fixes her hair and you can’t help but smile at the display. When she turns her head in search of you, you think it appropriate to raise your hands in a wave. She notices you.

“Cordelia”, she greets you in that soft, kind voice of hers when she comes to stand in front of your table and then leans over it, pulling you into a warm hug. You squeeze her tightly and can’t help but laugh a little- a sentiment that she echoes.

“Sumia”, you say when you pull apart again, grinning all the while. “It’s been way too long that we’ve met up like this. You’re looking gorgeous as ever, though.” And she honestly does, what with her milky tresses curling softly, framing her dollish face, and her creamy, flawless skin, contrasted by dark hues clinging to her slender frame.

She smiles sweetly, setting her bag down in the chair opposite of yours. “You’re one to talk, Cordi”, she laughs and takes off her coat and scarf, hanging them over the back-rest. “Did I keep you waiting for long?”

You shake your head and act as though your empty espresso cup didn’t exist. “Just a minute or two, nothing to worry about”, you reassure her and stand up. “Well, shall we get ourselves something to drink, then?”

Seeing Sumia nod with her usual innocent enthusiasm melts your heart.

* * *

“No way!”

“I know, right? But it was super interesting!”

“Well, I mean… I suppose it’s good that you broaden your interests and all, but if you have to associate yourself with someone so… uncanny…”

Sumia stares at you pointedly from across the table, absentmindedly drawing flowers into the foam on her cappucino with her spoon. “Henry is actually a pretty nice guy”, she defends and runs her tongue over her lips in thought. “He’s a bit out of the loop, maybe, but once you take the time to talk to him, he’s not that bad. Also, as I said, the books he recommends are great!” Then, she clears her throat, blushing a bit. “I wouldn’t have thought about reading anything like that if he hadn’t told me that they were good….”

You can’t help but snort as if to hide your laughter. “Well, if others didn’t recommend books to you, you’d only read fantasy stories and those novels about horses that are aimed at little girls, right?”, you tease and the light-heartedness of it all lightens up your smile.

“Says the one who owns an entire shelf full of cheesy romance novels”, Sumia shoots back without missing a beat, lightly swatting at your arm. A blush rises to your face and you look away in embarrassment.

“I know how humiliating that is”, you mutter and stare at the table. “But, speaking of which… are you interested in that Henry?”

Sumia goes red and furiously shakes her head. You wonder if she’s getting dizzy from it. “Nu-uh! That… I couldn’t… I mean… no, definitely not like that! Um…”, she stutters and coughs into her fist awkwardly. Then, she heaves a heavy sigh. “It’s not like that. In fact I’m… I’m kinda… seeing someone right now…”

You can’t help the excited smile that makes its way onto your face when you grab Sumia’s hands across the table, barely avoiding knocking over her cup. “That’s great! I’m so happy for you, Sumia!”, you tell her, squeezing her hands reassuringly. “So? Do I know him?”

She goes rigid and sends you a wry smile. “Promise me not to get mad?”, she asks tentatively and squeezes your hands back. You simply nod in reply because, hey, how much worse than _Henry_ could she do? Her smile wavers and she meets your gaze with her apologetic one.

“I’m seeing Chrom, Cordi”, she whispers.

Your face falls, if only for a second, but Sumia notices it. Of course she does. But before she can say anything, your smile is back in place. “Isn’t that great? I’m so happy for you!”, you tell her, swallowing all the bitterness that wants to make its way up your throat. “Honestly, Chrom’s an amazing person and you deserve no less.”

She releases a shaky breath before looking at you from below her long lashes. “He really is amazing, yes”, she mutters sourly and glares into her cup. “But you’re so much better than me at everything and you’ve liked him for so long. I feel like I betrayed you.”

“Sumia, look at me”, you order and she does. “It’s true that I’ve always loved him, but at the same time… deep down, I probably knew that he’d never be interested in me.” Then, you sigh and shake your head. “I’m so glad. You’re both such wonderful people”, you tell her and suddenly, you’re crying, messing up your perfect makeup and not caring one bit.

In a second, Sumia is by your side, hugging you, and you feel that everything is, at long last, in its proper place.

* * *

To be honest, you are a bit surprised by how well you’re doing after you’ve come to know that your (pretty much) lifelong crush was now taken. In fact, you feel like the weight that had been pushing you down for so many years was, all of a sudden, gone.

Even when, a few days later, the universe tries to test you by making Chrom enter the lobby just when you’re stepping into the elevator, you simply hold the door open until he catches up after breaking into a light jog. “Thanks”, he tells you when he gets in and hits the button for the fifteenth floor.

You push the one for the eleventh as you start speaking. “So, Sumia told me the two of you are going out?”, you inquire, so very casually, and you can’t bring yourself to feel something more than general interest in the matter. Chrom looks at you surprised for a second before blushing a little.

“Err… yes. We are”, he confirms and stares determinedly at the wall to his left. “I… She… I really. Like her.”

“I’m glad”, you say before you can stop yourself. He gazes at you questioningly.“I’m glad she got with someone like you.” The elevator bings when it arrives at your floor and you move to get off. “Take good care of her, will you?”, you mutter as you set your feet in front of each other, your back to your company.

Before you can step out of the doors, however, a strong hand seizes your wrist. You turn to look at Chrom over your shoulder, only to find him looking at you with a gaze so passionate and earnest, you feel like you could melt right there. “Thank you, Cordelia”, he says and smiles.

For the first time in your life, your eyes meet and you truly _see_ one another.

* * *

You don’t expect that the day might come when there would be no more obscure cups greeting you in the mornings, and you especially don’t expect the beginning of the end to smell like chestnut.

“Well, I guess this settles it, then”, the little post-it note attached to the cup one Wednesday reads. “I got you all kinds of coffee I could think of, but I don’t know where else I could get something different. So, congrats, you’re finally getting rid of me, free to drink all the acid you want.”

Instead of the relief you would have expected to feel at the beginning of this stupid coffee-buying thing, you now only feel disappointed. That disappointment, however, quickly dissolves into anger as you crush the note in your palm and get up from your seat, slamming your hands down on your desk for good measure.

As you make your way to Gaius’ part of the office, stomping there absolutely gracelessly, you take the time to wonder why you’re so angry about this in the first place. All the answers your brain gives you aren’t what you want to hear, though. (“Letting his efforts be in vain! The nerve that guy has!”, “He spent all that money on me, too!” “I enjoyed his coffee!”)

When you come to stand in front of his desk, at last, you find the man himself amiss, although his computer is turned on and a steaming mug of something that smells too sweet to be coffee is idling around next to it. And so, anger turns into disappointment again, just in time for him to pop up behind you.

“Hey”, he greets you casually and you jump, whirling around to look at him. (Your heart-rate is unhealthily high, thanks to him being sneaky like that. You catch yourself thinking how it would be fitting for him to have been a thief or something along those lines in a previous life.)

“You-“, you choke out before shaking your head. Gaius looks at you, way too unimpressed, and brushes his outgrown fringe out of his eyes. You recompose yourself, swallow heavily, and start again. “You shouldn’t jump to conclusions about other people’s feelings and be rude about it”, you tell him and straighten your back so you can stand with your head held higher than usual.

He just squints at you for a moment as if to figure you out before snorting. “Right”, he says, a light-hearted smirk on his lips. “You can’t just say that you enjoy the attention, kinda forgot that.” You want to object, but Gaius’ posture and expression indicate that it was a joke. So you just sigh and laugh lightly.

His eyes widen a little in surprise and you wonder why. Fortunately, he tells you not a second later. “It wasn’t even that funny”, he mutters, awkwardly, and you can’t believe that he is actually blushing. (You need to double-take, in fact, to be entirely sure about that.)

“You’re right, it really wasn’t”, you reply softly, but smile nonetheless. “But maybe I thought it was because it is true.” Then, you exhale through your nose, hoping to calm down a little. “Lately, I’ve been really looking forward to the things you’d get me each morning and I got really used to it. But…”

Gaius eyes you curiously, briefly looking away to see what your colleagues were doing. A second later, however, you’re at the center of his attention again. You suddenly feel sick. “It’s just… the fact that you had to go out of your way every day and probably spent a lot of money on me just went over my head because I was too caught up being a stuck-up idiot”, is what you tell him, in the end, and only when the words leave your mouth do you realise that it is exactly what you feel. “And… especially in the beginning… I’ve been nothing but impolite. So, please, let me at least apologise.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ve been an ass about it, too. Plus, I chose to do it”, he dismisses and waves his hand around comically. You catch yourself sighing as the two of you meet each other’s gazes. “At least you liked them. That’s good”, Gaius then says after a beat and smiles, maybe even a bit fondly, and your stomach churns.

“I… I’ll see you around, I guess”, you tell him stiffly and move to walk past him. Then, without your consent, your feet come to a halt once more. “I wouldn’t be opposed to receiving some coffee from time to time, though”, you mutter, yet refuse to look at him.

“Demanding, aren’t we?”, he teases and you think, screw it, and glance at him from over your shoulder.

“Always.”

* * *

During lunch break on Friday,  just as you set foot into the break-area, you are already greeted with, “Oh, Cordelia! Do you want to come along for some drinks tonight? We’ll make it a ladies’ night.”

A few of your female co-workers sit around the table in the middle of the room (namely Robin, Maribelle, Cherche, Sully and a very reluctant Olivia), looking at you expectantly. You slip on a pleasant smile and nod. “Sure, if you’re willing to have me around”, you tell them and you receive a chorus of satisfied hums in reply.

Which is exactly why you find yourself inside a very dubious-looking bar a few hours later, together with an unsettlingly aggressive tank of a woman, a trembling mess, the proud keeper of the biggest Dobermann you’ve ever seen (named ‘Minerva’, you’d learn much later on in your life), the self-proclaimed epitome of what it means to be a lady and, finally, the probably most nonsensical woman in the world.

Squeezed into a booth, sitting between Olivia and Robin, you order a big glass of water and try to smile at the questioning gazes directed at you. You tell them that you’ve gained a few pounds lately- a stupid excuse in order to stay sober, admittedly- and they buy it, although the obligatory “I couldn’t tell” and “You’re in such good shape, though” are thrown your way.

“I’ve been putting on some chub, lately, too”, Sully complains and frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “I feel you”, Robin chimes in, nodding wisely, before taking a bite out of a very meat-lasty sandwich. None of you even bother to tell her that foods like that, especially when eaten late at night, might be the reason for her gain of weight. She seems upbeat enough despite it, anyways.

Some time passes with idle chitchat like that and you can’t say that you don’t enjoy it. That is, until a subject you’ve been dreading to talk about finally comes up. “Ah, by the way”, Maribelle pipes up, clearing her throat daintily. “Do any of you know- with certainty, mind you- whether it is true that Chrom is going out with Sumia?”

Naturally, all eyes are on you fairly quickly, with you being Sumia’s best friend. You find yourself smiling softly, ever the professional, even when put on the spot like that, and nod. “She told me a whole while ago, actually. I was surprised at first, but I guess it makes sense. You know that she changed departments, right? It’s only a guess on my part, but I suppose it has to do with them being together”, you tell them in a tone of voice that sounds a little too factual while gossiping, even to yourself.

“Her transferring only went as smoothly as that because Chrom himself took care of it. That’s why the paperwork didn’t pass by anyone else”, Robin suddenly says and traces the rim of her glass lazily with a spidery fingertip. “I guess he wanted to keep it a secret, but evidently, he didn’t do a very good job of it.”

To your right, Olivia leans forward to look at Robin. “So you knew all along?”, she asks softly, hesitantly, and you doubt that Sully, Cherche and Maribelle on the other side of the table even heard her. Robin gives her a deadpan look and a quick, “duh” in response, which is enough to make the frail receptionist shrink into herself even further than usual, a stream of unintelligible apologies leaving her mouth under her breath.

Maribelle coughs with a high-pitched noise before letting out what you could only describe as a dignified chuckle, all while straightening her spine dramatically. “Ah yes, I seem to have forgotten that Chrom confides in you for everything”, she admits with a satisfied smile. “If I did not know better, I would have supposed that you would be the first to capture his heart.”

As you look at Robin from the corner of your eye, you notice just how neutral her expression is- admittedly, on the otherwise expressive woman’s face, it looks eerie. Then, she shakes her head and snorts. “No way. Chrom is pretty much my best friend. That’d be weird”, she replies and folds her hands on the table.

And suddenly, before you even know what hit you, you find yourself fixed by a pair of warm brown eyes to your left, staring at you from below long lashes. “I always knew that someone else was there, waiting for him, anyways”, she mutters, lowly and under her breath, meant for your ears only, as her gaze becomes pitying but gentle.

A shiver runs down your spine, but you smile gratefully, always appreciating sympathy, even if it is not neccessary. “I’m over it, really. After you know that you really don’t have a chance anymore, you can be happy for someone else and that’s that”, you tell her genuinely. She nods slowly and, after a few seconds, strikes up conversation with Sully about whether wrestling or boxing is more fun to watch.

“Aren’t you seeing that one guy… that redhead, anyways, Cordelia?”, Cherche asks you what feels like a heartbeat later in a tone that sounds way too uninterested, as though she only did so in order to carry on conversation topically. That intonation seems to fly right over Maribelle’s head, however, for she promptly lets out a displeased shrieking sound next to her, looking at you with wide eyes and a sternly set mouth.

“How come that I have not heard of such a thing until now?”, she demands snappily, giving you an icy, albeit dainty, glare while neatly folding her hands on top of the table. You catch yourself sighing a drawn-out sigh and smile at her sheepishly.

“There’s nothing going on between us, that’s why”, you inform her (and Cherche, you suppose) sincerely. Both of them look varying degrees of surprised and even Olivia shifts against your arm, despite it being such a simple truth.

You find that your chest feels oddly tight in the minutes that follow, though.

* * *

The semi-regularity of the coffee Gaius gets you doesn’t bother nor sadden you too much as time passes. Occassionally, the two of you would even run into each other while waiting for the elevator and whenever that happened, you’d exchange a few fleeting pleasantries before going your seperate ways, but, all in all, he quickly becomes a presence woven into your life without being as intrusive as you would have expected him to be at first. (You might even say that you enjoy his attention and company from time to time, not that you would admit that, neither to yourself nor the world.)

All of your initial animosity has faded by now- frankly, it feels more as though it had all been in your head- and when you stoop down and look at him for who he is, slowly but surely, a creeping realisation prickles at the back of your mind.

You’re quick to dismiss thoughts like that these days.

On a day off, just some pleasantly sunny Sunday afternoon, you decide to google the coffee shop Gaius always got his coffee from. It is as though a sudden craving for vanilla latte takes hold of your body and only when you sit inside the small, cosy café with a cup in your hands does the full understanding of what had transpired hit you.

And yet, as proud as you are, you simply take the opportunity to check out the little establishment in stride and decide to gaze around the store, finding most of the customers to be hiding behind laptops with half-eaten, illuminated apples, wearing clothes that are either painfully ironic or downright ugly (here, you also grow awfully aware of how your proper flower-blouse and stylish jeans stick out like a sore thumb) and you quickly deduce that this kind of café, despite its delicious beverages, could do well without your presence.

Nevertheless, you calmly lean back in your seat and stir your latte, licking off the long spoon every time you retract it. Your eyes are glued to the large windows as though you were waiting for something. (Some reluctantly honest part of you quietly admits that you are, in fact, waiting for something- for Gaius to show up and be surprised to find you here before inviting you for another round of coffee. And wouldn’t you feel a lot less out of place with him next to you, that honest part muses. Disgruntled, you agree.)

But he doesn’t show up even once in the 41 minutes and 35 seconds you waste in that store, despite all the effort you put into coming up with different scenarios in which you would have to greet him and then act accordingly, and you won’t even bother to deny that you are gravely disappointed.

From then on, you become a regular at that café.

* * *

“You seem a lot more cheerful lately”, Robin states as the two of you sit down and look over the menu. You hum dismissively and flip through the pages in order to find the selection of different pasta-dishes. When you offer no verbal reply, Robin sighs dramatically and closes her eyes. “Really. Did something good happen in your life? You’re practically glowing, even more so since we went out the other night”, she presses and you clear your throat irritably before setting your menu card down in defeat.

“I’ve started taking things easier in my spare time, I suppose”, you tell her, as ambiguous as that sounds, and quickly try to change the topic. “By the way, can you recommend anything? I was thinking about taking the pasta with squid in it, but I wonder if it’s really as delicious as it sounds.” A nervous laugh escapes you as if to punctuate the embarrassing nature of that stunt, but Robin takes the bait nonetheless.

When she, two minutes later, wraps up her rant about bear-meat (whoever serves _bear_ of all things, anyway, you wonder), you feel completely and utterly mentally exhausted but the conversation afterwards doesn’t even come close to uncomfortable subjects so you call it a small victory.

Idly, while chewing on your salad, you wonder when you started getting worked up over small insecurities.

* * *

Over the course of a few weeks, you fall into the habit of doing one little thing or another on your laptop at a certain café, be it extra work or writing e-mails (or continuing that embarrassing draft for a romance novel you would never admit existed) and frankly, you enjoy that time. Most of the employees know you by now and on some days, when business is especially slow, you end up having pleasant conversations with a few of them.

All in all, you honestly enjoy your time there- so much, in fact, that you end up forgetting why you started coming there in the first place.

So, as you sit in a nice spot by the window you came to like on just another Saturday afternoon, typing a professionally worded mail for Frederick saying that, no, you wouldn’t mind having trainees around and taking one or two under your wing, you are so at ease, immersed in your work in this café that you are comfortable in, that you don’t even register that someone approaches your table.

“Cordelia?”, a voice speaks and you, way too suddenly and jerkily, jump in your seat in surprise, bumping your knee. You hiss in pain and curse under your breath before looking up, only now recalling that you came here with a goal in mind- a goal that had now been fulfilled.

“Oh”, is all you say for a few seconds, quite intelligently so, and you stare up at a familiar face, red from the harsh wind outside. Almost forcibly, you snap out of it. “Um. Gaius. Hello.”

“Hey”, he answers, apparently just as much at loss as you are in this situation. “I’m surprised to see you here. I didn’t peg you for someone who went to places like this.” You note how he looks anywhere but at you, his shoulders drawn inwards, his teeth nibbling idly at his bottom lip and oh, doesn’t he look lost like that?

Loudly, you clear your throat, bringing Gaius’ focus back to you. “But I like it here. Anyways, wouldn’t you rather sit down?”, you ask him, your tone unintentionally sharp, as you already move to put your purse from the chair next to you to the floor. “Please have a seat.”

Wordlessly, he nods and takes off his ratty parka (although, you note to yourself, some articles look admittedly better when they have been through a lot), unwrapping a thick scarf from around his neck as well, and flops down next to you. (Only now do you realise that he could have sat down across from you, too. Internally, you are screaming at your own stupidity.)

But Gaius remains unfazed, offering you a curt “thanks” before letting his eyes roam the interior again. (Although you would never admit to it, you watch him all the while.) Then, way too quickly, his gaze returns to you, and you jump a little. “Enjoying the view?”, he teases with a smirk and you only huff in response. He chuckles lightly and you can’t help but grin. “Nah, but seriously. Do tell why you’re here. Isn’t this a bit below your standards?”

In a second, your mind goes into overdrive, trying to work out a possible excuse that wouldn’t involve you telling him that you were hoping to run into him here. Needless to say, it doesn’t work just right and before you know it, you’re blushing. That, in turn, encourages a snort to your right and you lightly hit Gaius’ arm as if to reprimand him. “Don’t laugh! I just- look, I felt like I needed coffee one Sunday and remembered that you always get me coffee from here. And it’s delicious, so don’t judge me”, you mutter and find yourself pouting, yet refusing to look at your company.

“Alright, I get it”, he says with a grin in his voice. You sigh and look at the screen of your laptop, the half-typed e-mail glaring at you. Delaying a reply makes you queasy and you shift in your seat, uncomfortably. Surprisingly, Gaius picks up on it and slaps his hands on his thighs before standing up. “Okay, I guess I’ll be getting myself some coffee now. You want another one?”

Glancing up at him, you smile gratefully. “That would be great, yes”, you answer him and place your fingers over the keyboard already. “Surprise me with what you’ll get me.” He nods one final time before moving towards the counter.

Somehow, his retreating form is something you don’t enjoy watching, as much as those tight, stained jeans do flatter him.

* * *

Quickly, the two of you build up a rhythm. You’d meet up on Saturdays at four in the afternoon every second week, have some coffee together, talk about this and that and by the time you realise that you gave in to Gaius’ original demand to buy you coffee from what feels like an eternity ago, you are way too comfortable and happy with the situation to try and change it. By now, you’d even go as far as to say that you were friends with him, what with joking and laughing casually together the way you do.

It never occurs to you that you go on a date with him every two weeks until Sumia calls it just that one Wednesday evening.

She drops that word so innocently and casually that you have to have her repeat it a few times in the same context, but there is no denying that she means what she means. And that in and of itself is a terrifying thought, simply because you didn’t even think of considering it as such up until that very moment.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, Cordi”, Sumia says when she sees you, metaphorically ripping out your hair over it. Her tone is sincerely rueful, which makes it even harder on you, and you just shake your head, willing away the creeping realisation that is quickly jumping to the front of your mind as well as Sumia’s regret over a petty thing.

A gentle hand comes to seize your wrist, gently rubbing it, and before you know it, warm arms are around you, calming you down. “Why are you so mad about this?”, your friend asks you softly, the familiar scent of the perfume she started using when she was fourteen keeping you fairly relaxed despite every muscle in your body trying to cramp up.

“I don’t know”, you mutter into her shoulder and she sighs, squeezing you slightly. You wrap your arms around her middle tightly. “I guess it’s just that I can’t bring myself to think about seeing him. But maybe he always thought those times were dates. If so, I would have been hurting him all this time without realising it”, is your final confession on the matter and Sumia nods against your neck.

“You say you can’t bring yourself to think about him like that, but… Cordi, did you maybe fall for Gaius already?”

And then, the realisation is finally and unceremoniously shoved in your face.

* * *

The good mood you had been in almost continuously for a few months quickly dissolves once you go into denial. You aren’t as childish as to avoid Gaius or anything, but suddenly, your defenses around him are way too high, you begin to have unrealistic expectations and you subconsciously do everything in your might to tell yourself that you are, in fact, not even mildly interested in this man, romantically.

Except that you kind of are, but that is unacceptable, with the way the two of you are, right now.

So you start nitpicking. (And you don’t do that to have him shape up and be ready for you, you insist- instead, you want to make sure that you find so many faults in him that you can’t accept him anymore. The problem is, that it really doesn’t work out.)

The first thing you scold him for are his slightly unclean, wrinkled clothes- you could impossibly go out with a man who doesn’t have an impeccable appearance while you care so much about your looks. That’s what you want to believe, at least.

A week later, you find yourself ironing his freshly washed shirts and slacks while idly wondering whether he is going to like the smell of your detergent.

Next, you tell him that his shoes look worn down.

That weekend, the two of you end up falling in love with the same pair of brown leather oxfords while shopping for shoes and they end up as a must-buy. “They make your feet look so slender”, you tell Gaius, and he shrugs, but you’re pretty sure he agrees for he takes them without another word.

Then, you complain about how his hair is, by now, the most outgrown thing on the planet.

Saturday afternoon, he’s sitting on a kitchen chair in your appartment, an empty trash-bag with a hole cut into it around his shoulders, carrot-coloured strands steadily falling to the floor as you clip them off with a pair of household scissors.

It’s only when you look at him after all that, his suits still well-worn but pressed perfectly, his hair done neatly and his face as handsome as ever that you realise what you had done.

And you curse yourself.

* * *

“Something’s on your mind.”

It’s not a question and you don’t even bother to try hiding anything- after having been seen through by that pair of gentle olive eyes, it would be in vain, either way. Instead, you just nod, sigh, and rest your forehead against the harp in front of you, carefully supporting the instrument with your hands.

“Attentive as ever, Stahl”, you say with a wry smile that is hidden behind your cascading bangs, opting to lightly strum a few notes with the tips of your fingers against the strings, shimmering golden in the light of the small auditorium. “I guess I’m just really obvious, though, aren’t I?”

“I wouldn’t say so”, Stahl replies, ever so kindly, and idly tugs at the stings of his own harp, complementing the random notes you play by making them echo off the tall walls as clean chords. For one reason or another, you can’t help but grin and look up at him. His smile is bashful and embarrassed as he meets your eyes, yet you ease even more into the uncertain melody the two of you weave at random. “You’ve been distracted lately”, he continues at some point and you want to shrug. “Do you want to talk about it?”

His hands stop and so do yours as you stare at each other for a few seconds, the silence hanging thickly in the air as the last chord stops ringing in your ears. Finally, you go lax and heave another sigh. “I think I might be in love”, you tell him and Stahl hums thoughtfully, resting his chin in his palm.

“But you don’t want to be”, he observes and you nod. “Is this other person particularily disagreeable?”

You stare at the floor in front of you in thought. No, you think, Gaius is not disagreeable at all. At first, you would have said ‘yes’ without doing as much as contemplate the answer for more than a second, but by now, you know the truly charming and sweet, the kind and gentle, the vulnerable and embarrassing nuances to his character, and you can’t say that you detest them in the slightest. If he were to hit on you today like he did forever ago, then you would probably, without a second thought, agree to have coffee with him, blush at his compliments and fondly wish him a good night at the end of the day (even though his approach would still strike you as idiotic- endearningly dorky, but idiotic).

“He’s really not. And there’s no reason why I don’t act upon it, honestly”, you admit out loud. It’s the first time you’ve done so and suddenly, you feel a lot lighter. Stahl smiles at you in that one hundred percent genuine way, as though he shared your relief and you blush. “I hope he’s still interested in me, then, because maybe he got a bit disillusioned while getting to know me better”, you half-joke.

“Trust me, your outward appearance of perfection and skillfulness is probably a greater source of uncomfortableness than your kind and nurturing personality below that”, he tells you smoothly and extends his arms towards the strings further from him. “I can imagine that this newly found passion might brighten up your performance on a love song right now, though”, Stahl says and strums a few notes of an old folk song that you would recognise anywhere.

Smiling in approval, you join in and smoothly play the song you know by heart, singing along its cheesy lyrics in some uncoordinated sort of call and response Stahl quickly joins in on.

And suddenly, coming to realise affection for another isn’t as scary anymore.

* * *

It starts when Gaius seeks you out the next Thursday in the break room. It’s a little past most others’ lunch break, so it’s fairly deserted, but you still think that your perfect attendance could suffer a little if it was in order to make sense of the slightly flustered redhead in the doorframe.

“Um, Cordelia, do you have a minute?”, he asks when your eyes meet properly and you can’t help but note how he is keeping his hands behind his back. Nevertheless, you nod and motion for him to sit down in one of the chairs standing around in the area. He does and places his hands that are holding onto something in his lap, efficiently covering the item so it becomes hard to determine what it is.

You smile softly and lean towards him just a tiny bit, taking in his pleasant features for what feels like the millionth time, yet still finding them refreshing. “So, what’s on your mind?”, you ask him, feeling a little giddy.

“Right”, he mutters before clearing his throat. “I know that you’ve put a lot of effort into me lately and I kinda thought you’d need some recompensation, however small it may be.” You want to protest that, no, you don’t need anything, it was nice doing these things for him, but he speaks again before you get the chance to. “I don’t have much but my pay here and a few bucks I get for selling a few odds and ends on ebay, so it’s not much, but I got you this, since I thought you’d like it.”

He raises the item he’d been holding onto up to your eye-level and waits for a reaction. It’s just a regular headband, light beige cloth with flowers on it in a wooden frame, but as you take it from his hands (brushing them not-quite-by-accident), you can’t help but think that it’s such a sweet gift, simple and cheap as it may be, that you smile brightly.

Gaius flushes, averting his eyes for a second before they dart back to your face. “Your fringe seems a bit too long to be comfortable and I thought the pattern fits that blouse you like so much…”, he tells you and your smile turns into a beam.

“I love it, really. Thank you so much”, you say and immediately shove it into your hair, pulling your bangs back with it. “It’ll be really useful. How thoughtful of you.”

He smiles, so soft and unabashed that you wonder why he doesn’t make that face more often. “I’m glad you like it. But it’s pretty little for recompensation, so I thought, if you wanted, I could take you out for dinner tomorrow evening?”, Gaius asks you and you can’t help but notice his hopeful look he’s trying so hard to hide.

“I’d love to”, you reply and idly trace your cheek with your fingertips, trying to fix the hair that isn’t there anymore. His surprised expression that morphs into a smirk is slightly unsettling as he glances at you. “What is it?”

“So, it’s a date?”, he asks then, teasingly, and you don’t even think twice before you answer.

“What else would it be?”

At that, Gaius jaw pretty much hits the ground. You look at him in surprise as he recomposes himself, cheeks dusted pink. “R-right. Are you sure you’re okay, Cordelia? Everything alright?”

“I am totally fine. If you are asking me out on a date, it’s a date, right? And I won’t refuse you, so why are you upset about it?”, you question and cross your arms over your chest, frowning, but the heat creeping to your face indicates that you’ve already lost your cool.

Gaius clears his throat. “I’m no Chrom and neither am I all the things he is. Really, I don’t want you to go on a pity date with me or just call getting food a ‘date’ to please me”, he says, his tone surprisingly exasperated.

You glare at him and stand up abruptly. “I want to go on a date with you because I like you”, you tell him heatedly and turn your back on him. “There’s no need for you to be a Chrom- if that was the case, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. So don’t get caught up in some delusion of inferiority and finally ask me for my number.”

Dumbstruck by your boldness, he does just that.

* * *

Friday night comes quickly and, with your hair in a flawless updo and impeccable, albeit heavy, makeup, you look at yourself in the mirror next to your front-door a thousand times as the time nears quarter to eight. Your dress isn’t too fancy, your heels aren’t too high, your jewlery is just the right amount of sparkly and your purse isn’t too tiny or too big, but you still feel like you wouldn’t fit in at the somewhat pricey and fancy Italian place you and Gaius agreed on.

As you wait at the door, double and triple checking if your pantyhose is still intact, you wonder which coat would look best with your current outfit, but you can’t decide and end up picking your favourite.

At 7:42, your doorbell rings and you move to open it quickly before, at the last minute, choosing to wait a few seconds, not wanting to seem overly eager. But then, you can’t stand it anymore and jank it open gracelessly, coming face-to-face with Gaius who, for lack of a better word, looks downright _dashing_ , with his hair tamed quite a bit while wearing a suit you had yet to acquaintance with your washing machine. “Hi”, he greets curtly and his eyes promptly roam all over you before he glances back at your face. “Wow”, he laughs and whistles. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You feel the heat rush to your face but nod nonetheless. “I thought I should look presentable next to some smooth gent”, you say with a strained voice, feeling a little too awkward to joke properly. Gaius snorts but offers his hand to you. You gingerly place it in his palm and, ever so chastely, he presses a kiss to your knuckles.

“Enchanté, mademoiselle”, he says with a smirk and suddenly, the awkwardness from a few seconds ago dissolves, leaving behind the same casual, albeit silly, atmosphere the two of you had had between you on sunny afternoons spent in ratty hipster cafés.

Smiling, you rush back into your appartment to grab your coat and bump Gaius’ upper arm with your shoulder as you exit the doorway.

“Then lead the way, monsieur.”

* * *

By ten, conversation is still coming easily to the two of you (maybe even more easily than usual, you muse, considering that you are on your third glass of wine) and you can’t help but smile and laugh freely whenever either of you ends up telling a story that is old news or when it’s just plain stupid. You feel so at ease with Gaius sitting across from you, his hand that had found yours a while ago now resting on top of it lazily, that you can’t help but imagine living by his side all the time- it’s a thought that makes you nervous, but it brings a flush to your cheeks (you play it off, saying it’s the wine) and gives you a fuzzy feeling in your stomach.

By 10:30, you are merely smiling at each other and occasionally exchange a few words or make funny faces at each other to see who laughs first. It’s childish, but your drunk mind doesn’t mind much.

By eleven, you leave the restaurant after Gaius insisted he’d pay, and slowly walk through the night towards your appartment building, arms linked and still talking- you’re too tired to care about the words said anymore, but they’re probably meaningless enough.

By the time the two of you make it to your front-door and you actually get it to open, the fog in your head has cleared up a little and you stand in the doorway, minutes after unlocking and opening your apparment, and the two of you just stare at each other.

“Thank you. I had a lot of fun today”, you begin after an eternity and Gaius just nods, red-faced. You reach out to take hold of the hands that idly hang by his sides, squeezing them. “Honestly. Let’s do it again. Or we could do something else. Go ice-skating. Or bowling. Or you could come listen to me perform in the next concert!”, you tell him brightly.

“Woah, you’re suggesting quite a few possible dates, there”, Gaius laughs and pulls one of his hands out of yours in order to tenderly brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You lean into his touch on your cheek, using your now-free hand to cup his larger one.

“I know it’s a bit awkward to say, but… I wouldn’t be opposed to be dating you. Officially”, you mutter and you can feel him go rigid for a second before his thumb gently moves to caress the apple of your cheek.

“And it only took more than half a year and gallons of coffee to get here”, he chuckles and you smile. “But if you’re okay with it… well, let me ask you like this: Cordelia, would you like to be my personal coiffeur, laundry-checker and maybe also my girlfriend?”

Snorting, you look up and meet his eyes. “Of course I’d like to”, you giggle and lean forwards, wrapping your arms around his middle and finding him mimicking the action after a few heartbeats of hesitation.

“Well, have a good night’s rest, then”, he mutters into your hair and as you look up, he presses a quick peck to your forehead and mumbles a proper ‘good night’.

On that very young Saturday, you close your door and you’re utterly, completely and absolutely in love.

* * *

A mantra of ‘stay professional, stay professional’ quickly becomes commonplace throughout your workplace-interactions with Gaius (- your boyfriend, you mind supplies giddily). And it’s not that you mind leaning into him at any given opportunity or maybe even sneaking in a few pecks here and there, but you can’t help but be afraid that your work might suffer from it for it distracts you.

Except that you quickly revert back to the perfect employee you were before- hard-working, efficient, pleasant and professional. But you don’t feel that way at all when you share smiles in passing and flirtatious teases. Others pick up on it, of course, but, sadly, it seems that your uncalled for queasiness about having a relationship with a colleague ends up being ignored.

Sometimes, you doubt yourself and your decisions, only to catch sight of a flirty smirk thrown your way and you forget all uneasiness.

 _Whatever_ , you think, uncharacteristically.

* * *

“I didn’t know he had it in him!”, Vaike laughs, obnoxious as ever, as he scrubs the inside of a glass with a flowery pink rag. The picture of a burly, tanned man sticking his hands into a heap of foam and suds while working on the dishes with the girliest cleaning utensil in existence somehow strikes you as bizarre, but you keep to yourself. “You shoulda heard him last time we got drunk together- at some point he talked about love like some teen chick, didn’t he, Lon’qu?”, he asks the quiet man standing next to him, moving to slap him good-naturedly but getting evaded.

Lon’qu just grunts gruffly in reply and glares at Vaike, avoiding looking or talking to you altogether. But you’re used to the silent treatment from him, uneasy as he is with speaking to women, so you usually just converse with the louder man whenever you help out at the soup-kitchen.

“But ain’t you glad you got Gaius? I mean, he isn’t me, so that’s kind of a setback, but I guess he’s a good shot, ain’t he?”, Vaike continues on and hands two plates to Lon’qu to dry off. You chuckle lightly and roll your eyes.

“No-one will ever be as good as the great Teacher Vaike”, you say to humour him and earn a ‘hell yeah’ from the boisterous blond man. “I’m getting used to a few things still, but I mean… we’ve been going steady for two months already. We’re doing fine.”

And wow, you think, it’s been two months of officially being together already. Time truly flies by. “But y’know, two months isn’t all that much, especially when you have to force your partner to open up and learn how the hell you have fun in the first place”, Vaike tells you and picks at some dirt on a knife with his nail.

“Not every woman is Miriel”, Lon’qu mutters and you’re surprised to hear him say anything at all. He stares at the counter in front of him as the man next to him lets out a ‘hey’ before swatting his arm. Then, even more surprisingly, the brunet glances at you from over his shoulder and forces himself to fix you with his surprisingly intense stare. “Do whatever you see fit with him from here on out”, he tells you and you could swear he’s smiling.

Warmth blooms inside your chest and you can’t help but grin until you’re at home.

* * *

Admittedly, you’ve imagined quite a few awkward scenarios that may or may not happen in your lifetime. But when something truly awkward comes along, you’re, naturally, unprepared and not expecting it in the least.

It starts out as a casual date on some Saturday afternoon at a little sandwich store downtown. You and Gaius both quickly get some food and sit down, fully intending on wasting your time until evening before heading to your place. For a while, everything goes as smoothly as usual.

Then, the door is clumsily swung open.

In waltzes Sumia, looking flustered as she turns around to wait for someone apparently coming behind her. (You can guess who it is, but it’s such an awkward prospect, really, so, so terribly awkward, you-) Chrom closes in on his girlfriend quickly and Gaius, who hadn’t been paying the newcomers any heed up until now, follows your line of sight and narrows his eyes slightly as he sees the new arrivals.

“Hey, look, it’s Sumia and Chrom!”, you whisper overly enthusiastically, acting as though you hadn’t been watching them ever since they set foot into the establishment. “What a pleasant surprise, right?”

Gaius grunts. “Yeah, downright charming”, he mutters grumpily and you turn in your seat to cup his cheek with your hand, smiling. He tries to keep his moping up, but after a few seconds, his lips break into a smirk. “Wanna call them over, then?”

You stifle a laugh at his expression and hit his arm lightly, then pressing a quick peck to his lips. “You’d burst if you had to sit across from Chrom for too long, dear”, you tell him and watch him blush at the kind-of-sort-of pet-name. He nods in agreement nonetheless.

“Likely”, he agrees and leans back in his seat. You whip your head around to see what the other couple is doing when your eyes accidentally meet Sumia’s and before you know it, her entire face lights up and she’s already making her way over to you. You internally beg Gaius for forgiveness and cast him an apologetic look to which he responds with a brow raised nonchalantly.

“Cordi! What a coincidence!”, Sumia exclaims cheerfully and pulls you into a hug once she gets close enough. You giggle into her hair and squeeze her for a second before pulling apart again, grinning wrily. Then, her eyes stray from your face and she apparently meets Gaius’ gaze. “Ah, and Gaius! It’s nice seeing you again after so long”, she greets and moves to pull out the chair across from you. “Mind if I sit?”

“Of course not”, you assure her and Gaius also nods, albeit stiffly. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t dislike Sumia in the slightest but it’s the now inevitable fact that he’ll have to sit across from Chrom for a while that makes him mopey like that. Sumia’s gaze flickers towards Gaius once more before she recoils a little. You look at him from the corner of your eye but can’t make sense of your friend’s reaction.

“I’m interrupting your date, aren’t I.”

* * *

And at first, it truly had been managable when Chrom joined you, mostly because by the time he sat down and handed  Sumia her food and drink, you had already had a three-way conversation going on- quite animatedly so.

But then, he tries to speak his mind as well and Gaius, quickly but subtly, snaps, which results in the two of them suddenly having a conversation of their own, slowly building up in volume, and you honestly don’t even want to know what they’re talking about. The basic gist of it apparently is that Gaius criticises how Chrom was raised with a silver spoon in that irritating way of his that leaves no room for argument (you would know) while Chrom obviously tries his hardest to stay somewhat composed and act like an adult.

You really don’t care, but you still break it up fairly early into the argument.

You’re quick to excuse yourself then, telling Sumia that you’d definitely call her soon and drag your frowning boyfriend out by the arm. “What even was that? What are you, five?”, you ask him exasperatedly as soon as you’re out on the street. Gaius just squints at you in thought before shaking his head. “Answer me”, you order and squeeze his arm that is still in your grasp.

He sighs but gives you a tired look. “I can’t play nice around someone who pisses me off simply by being there”, he replies, finally, and stares at the ground. “I know he took me in, even with my shitty track-record, but he plays the role of the good samaritan a little too often.”

The first thing you want to do is scold him, but, defeated as he looks, you end up reaching out to hold his hand instead and rest your head against his chest. “You’re an idiot”, you say softly and he hums in agreement. “You’ll get along with pretty much anyone, but he’s the exception?”

“Well, maybe it’s also a bit because this total babe here used to have a major crush on him and I can’t help but feel a little inferior around mister tall, dark and handsome”, he mutters and tugs at your arm to get you to start walking, only for you to stop in your tracks.

“Are you really jealous of him?”, you ask, surprised, and Gaius furrows his brows. “But why? When I know that I have you, why would I want him instead? You’re just as handsome and I suppose your character is probably a lot more endearning than his in the long run, too. And I love _you_ , so what does-“

You quickly cut yourself off, eyes going wide, and Gaius mimicks your expression. Before you can stop it, suddenly, there’s a stream of unintelligible sounds and broken words coming out of your mouth and your face heats up dangerously much.

You said it. You said that you loved him.

You want to sink into the floor, because saying these words for the first time was supposed to be romantic and perfect and all that, on top of a bridge in each other’s arms with a beautiful sunset in the background or something, but before you can destroy yourself over it, Gaius hugs you tightly and feeling him so close to you calms down your rapid heartbeat. “Hey, don’t stress it, it’s fine. I love you, too. Maybe even more than you love me, honestly”, he mutters and you laugh into his chest.

Squeezing him tightly, you smile into his shirt and you’re almost not mad about him clashing heads with Chrom anymore.

Almost.

* * *

After a year and a few months, Gaius moves in with you. It’s not some huge milestone like some people make it out to be. If anything, it makes everything easier, considering that he pretty much lives at your place already.

You know, of course, that your boyfriend (despite not being big on washing and ironing clothes) is incredibly good at and fast at doing domestic chores, but only after he starts sharing a living space with you like that do you realise the extend of his abilities. While you always took care of your appartment so it was neat and orderly, Gaius makes it into something from a magazine on interior design while cooking dishes that seem more like they belonged into a restaurant-guide.

Nevertheless, this newly discovered domestic vibe to your relationship fills you with a sense of contentment- the contentment of warming your cold toes up by rubbing them against Gaius’ warm ones under the covers, the contentment of waking up to the smell of fresh coffee, the contentment of spending lazy Sundays lying on the sofa while eating cold pizza you know you shouldn’t be eating, the contentment of doing the dishes together in peace (and you sometimes think of Vaike and Lon’qu having pointless conversation over it at the soup-kitchen), the contentment of throwing your darks into the same washing mashine and the contentment of waking up to kisses and falling asleep to kisses.

You’re happy with the way things are, even though it took you forever to get there.

* * *

One early spring morning, you sit up in your bed and find Gaius’ side made up but still vaguely warm. Confused, you set your feet on the floor and walk over the heated flooring with bare toes. When you enter your kitchen, you find your boyfriend amiss, although the table is already set for two, rolls sitting comfortably in a little basket and a bottle of orange juice poking out from behind that.

You want to turn around and search the other rooms when you hear the front-door opening and immediately, you’re dashing there. Gaius stands there, wrapped up in a thick jacket with his ears and cheeks red from the cold, holding two styrofoam cups of steaming coffee and looking at you in surprise.

“Ah, Cordelia, you’re already up?”, he asks, averting his eyes awkwardly, and you nod. He sighs and passes you the cups, placing a gentle peck on your cheek while he’s at it. His jacket comes off and the two of you return to the kitchen and sit down at the small table. You give him one of the cups and he takes it with a wry smile. “I thought I could get home before you woke up…”, he mutters and you look at him in surprise. “Well, but since there’s no helping it, I’ll go for the direct approach then.”

“Well, I could also pretend to be sleepy, still, and go back to bed for a few minutes, if it helps that cause of yours”, you tell him and take a small sip from your hot coffee.

“Nah, that’d ruin the cheesiness. I appreciate the sentiment, though”, he says and stands up. Your eyes follow him as he pulls open one of the drawers in the cupboard next to the oven, searching through it before finding what he was looking for with a quick ‘aha!’. Then, he sits down across from you again, holding something in his palm. “Wait, can I see your hand for a minute? I think there’s something weird going on there”, he muses and you look at him in bewilderment.

“Um, okay…?”, you agree after a few seconds of silence and extend your hand so he holds it in his larger one, examining it. There’s something awkward about it, but you can’t quite place it when you suddenly feel something being slipped onto your ring finger. Gaius lets go of your hand and allows you to see the simple thin silver band for yourself, then, and that’s what you do. “It’s a ring”, you state and he nods.

“I wasn’t sure whether it’s the right size, but my guess was right after all, huh?”, he observes, grinning triumphantly, and you just stare at him. “I had the chick at the register at the coffee shop write something onto your cup, by the way. I’d have liked to write it myself, but luckily, I thought of a plan B in time, in case you should wake up early.”

Still confused, you look at the cup before you and see that there is indeed something written on it in sharpie marker. When you lift it to your eye-level and read it, though, you almost drop it.

**Cordelia, will you marry me?**

You face Gaius with a wide-eyed expression and he looks somewhat bashful for a second. “Um, I’m sorry if it’s too early or out of the blue, but I’m just pretty sure that, if you should kick me out now, I’d never find anyone else whom I’d love as much as I love you, so…”, he mumbles and goes red, looking almost rueful.

Honestly, you’d love nothing more to shout that, yes, gods, yes, you’ll marry him, even today, if it has to be, but with your heart beating way too hard in your chest and your eyes prickling with unshed tears and your throat constricting like that and oh god, you feel like you’re about to faint.

“It’s very much like you to put the ring on me before I can object”, you say after a way too long silence, but you’re smiling, rubbing at the little band around your finger. “And to answer the cup’s question- I won’t marry an inanimate object, sorry. But that man across from me, I’d marry any day.”

Before you know it, the two of you end up lying on the floor on top of each other, giggling and kicking the table over but not caring about spilt coffee and broken juice bottles at all, because you’re smiling and crying and kissing and most importantly, you are together and will vow to remain like that for long as you live.

And as long as you’re that happy, all’s fine.

**Author's Note:**

> All's well that ends well.
> 
> ... I've written this fucking behemoth over the course of several moths (which is also why the writing and Cordi's character is very inconsistent), but I finished it. What more could I wish for.
> 
> Thanks for reading it, though. If it fried your brain, sorry, but that's how it goes~~~ °3°


End file.
